


Life Beyond the Barricade

by robmcclanahan



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Artist!Grantaire, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Professor!Enjolras
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-11-28 14:29:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robmcclanahan/pseuds/robmcclanahan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Émile Grantaire is an artist in New York.  Dr. Louis Enjolras is a professor at NYU.  Both men have recurring dreams about the June Rebellion.  What happens when Grantaire realizes that his dreams aren't really dreams?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

"Long live the Republic!" He shouted as he strode to his fearless leader and continued," Finish both of us at one blow." He turned to his companion and asked, “Do you permit it?" He received a smile in response and they held each other's hands as they met their doom together. 

Grantaire woke with a start. He'd had that same dream again. Ever since he could remember he'd had the same dream. No matter how many times he'd had the dream, it always left Grantaire feeling strangely pleased and confused. The dream always felt so real, it was as if he'd been in that old room with the man with the golden hair and the red coat. 

Sometimes Grantaire would have other dreams that felt just as real with the same man from the other dream. One of the other dreams that Grantaire had frequently was in some old bar surrounded by men dressed in early 19th Century style clothing. They were talking, drinking, singing, laughing. Grantaire seemed to be friends with all of them. In the dream he always sat across from the man from his other dream. They shared a look that pierced through Grantaire's soul even when he woke up. 

Had Grantaire believed in God, he'd almost think he had lived some past life not long after the fall of Napoleon. But Grantaire did not believe in religion. There was no such thing as past lives or souls or heaven. The nothingness after death was what Grantaire believed in. 

Grantaire supposed the images in his dreams had something to do with his passion for French history. While other little boys played video games and were in the Boy Scouts, Émile Grantaire read history books detailing the prelude to the French Revolution and books about the fall of Napoleon Bonaparte. Grantaire had double majored in French history and art. Besides his gift for studying and understanding history, Grantaire was as skilled with charcoal and paintbrushes as the Romantics who painted in Paris. Émile had managed to become a somewhat successful artist sketching and painting the scenes from his dreams. Émile had enough money to have a small apartment in Queens that served as his home and art studio. There was only one thing that held back Émile Grantaire: his love of alcohol.

~

He felt so alone. He had just watched his friends die. The people of Paris did not rise.  
They stood alone. He was resolved to join his brothers now and braced himself for the firing squad. Suddenly, as if heaven sent, a man with a face that was equal parts determined and beautiful strode to him. In that moment Enjolras knew he would not die alone. Enjolras placed his hand in the hand of the man who would die next to him. With his red flag raised high in defiance both men met their doom together. 

Enjolras awoke with his heart pounding. He could still feel the warmth of the other man's hand as they were killed. Rather than be disturbed, the dream left Enjolras with a smile. Enjolras had had this exact dream since he was a child.  
The thought of dying for a noble cause next to the one you loved was admirable to Enjolras. Of course a dream is just a dream and Louis Enjolras could never be accused of being anything but a realist. 

Louis taught French history and ethics at his alma mater, NYU. Enjolras graduated egregia cum laude and he got his PhDs in French History, French Literature, and ethics. He had only been teaching for a year but he loved it. Before he got his post at NYU, in order to pay for his massive student loans, Louis Enjolras was a journalist for the local social activist newspaper. It didn't pay much but Enjolras could never write for a newspaper that refused to write about social issues and human rights. Enjolras managed to keep from getting further in debt because he was lucky enough to rent a modest apartment with one of his best friend from NYU,  
Courfeyrac. 

While Enjolras was described as serious, uptight, and had no personal life, Courfeyrac was the exact opposite. Courfeyrac always smiled and seemed to brighten up any room he entered. Like Enjolras, Courfeyrac was an idealist and believed that people were truly good at heart. That was why Enjolras and Courfeyrac were so close; they balanced each other out while managing to hold a lot in common. Enjolras not only considered Courfeyrac to be his brother but Courfeyrac's twin sister Éponine and their little brother Gavroche to be his siblings as well. Courfeyrac adored Enjolras's dads Raoul and Javier who always baked them delicious sweets and Enjolras regularly ate with Courf’s family.

Despite Louis's serious nature, he was well liked by his students and colleagues alike. Enjolras had a group of close friends besides Courfeyrac, Éponine, and Gavroche. There was Combeferre his other best friend who was one of the youngest professors to ever teach at NYU, Jean Prouvaire who was a poet and liked to go by the name Jehan, Joly who was a brilliant med student who was also a hypochondriac, Feuilly who was in law school to become a lawyer for immigrants and who was an active member of the Polish community in the city, Bahorel and Bossuet who ran the newspaper that Enjolras had worked at, Marius Pontmercy an old chum from NYU who was a law student who paid for school by playing piano for the Metropolitan Opera, and his fiancé Cosette who was a rising star at the Metropolitan Opera . 

Overall, Enjolras had everything he had ever wanted in life but for some reason, Louis felt like something in his life was missing and that there was nothing that could fill the void, not that Enjolras didn't try. It was for that very reason Enjolras found himself at an art exhibit in Queens at the suggestion of Courfeyrac, that was entitled, "Orestes Fasting and Pylades Drunk" by an artist named Émile Grantaire.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night of Grantaire's exhibit.

Grantaire was terrified. It was the night of the opening of his new art exhibit that revolved around the golden haired man and his companions from Grantaire's dreams. This was Grantaire’s first show outside of his studio apartment. Émile created an elaborate backstory for the golden haired man. He was a leader of a student revolutionary group during the June Rebellion of 1832. This Orestes (that's what Grantaire called the golden haired man) and his followers fought to free France from the rule of the monarchy but each man fell one by one. In the end, all that remained of the group was Orestes bravely facing down the barrels of the National Guard. The center of Grantaire's exhibit was a charcoal illustration of Orestes holding a flag that was painted red, and in his other hand, Orestes was holding the hand of Grantaire. The other main work of art was also a charcoal piece of Orestes's body hanging out a window with his flag trailing down colored with red acrylic paint that looked like blood running down the fallen leader. This Orestes was an Apollo, a beautiful angel who had been struck down by the ugliness of humanity. 

Grantaire was the Pylades to the golden haired Apollo's Orestes. In real-life Grantaire was more like Dionysus. Emilé was already on his third glass of sherry and the exhibit wasn't even open yet. Of course three glasses of sherry was a child’s sip of their parent’s wine at Thanksgiving to Grantaire, who had a habit of finishing entire bottles of absinthe all on his own in one night. For Grantaire, three glasses of sherry was just a tonic to soothe his nerves before the start of the exhibit. Grantaire’s date with his beloved Green Fairy would have to wait until after the exhibit.

Grantaire was making the rounds and chit chatting with various people when he felt his heart stop. Standing in front of the charcoal drawing of Orestes holding the hand of Grantaire as they faced death was a man who looked like he had just stepped out of the piece of art and into the exhibit. Here was a real-life Orestes staring at Émile. Grantaire gulped what remained of his champagne before he dared to walk over to this Greek god standing before him. 

"I see you're quite taken by this piece."  
The man started and gave a little chuckle. 

"I am. The use of red in the flag to represent the passion of the two young revolutionaries and the blood that was spilt is brilliant. The symbolism of the two men holding hands as they faced their death willingly and together is beautiful. The sacrifice these two men made when they could have lived a long happy life together is heartbreaking and perfectly illustrates how tragic the   
June Rebellion was. These students who tried to make France a better place, who had their whole lives ahead of them, and then died when the people did not join them. Their deaths had no meaning then but eventually their goal of overthrowing the monarchy and making France a republic was successful."

Grantaire gave the man a small smile. "I see you are some what interested in French history. However, their deaths were in vain. When the people finally did rise successfully in rebellion, France was soon again under the oppression of tyranny, this time under the reign of Louis-Napoleon. The students' ideas of what France should be like never came true. The true tragedy was that they threw their lives away for a goal that never happened. I assume your knowledge of French history is cursory at best."

The man's smile got impossibly wider. "Ah, there you are quite wrong. My knowledge of French history is quite extensive, I majored in French history, French literature, and ethics."

Grantaire looked positively shocked. "I double majored in French history and French art. I see we are both well versed in French history. What is your name, my fellow French history lover?"

"My name is Dr. Louis Enjolras, pleased to make your acquaintance Mr.?"

"Uh Émile Grantaire. You're that young professor at NYU who teaches French history and ethics! I am quite embarrassed to have said your knowledge of French history was cursory. Please accept my sincerest apologies. I also thank you for your kind words about my work. Not many people pick up on the use of the color red so I must commend you."

"Apology accepted Mr. Grantaire."

"Please call me Grantaire. Mr. Grantaire was my father and I would prefer not to be confused with him."

"In that case Grantaire, please call me Enjolras. I adore my mother but I'll never understand why she named me Louis considering she is also a lover of French history and loathes the French monarchy as much as I do."

"Maybe she thought it was ironic?"

"Perhaps."

The man in charge of running Grantaire’s exhibit frantically tried to get Grantaire's attention. “Excuse me; I need to give a speech about my work. I would like to continue this conversation though. Would you be interested in going out for a late night drink after the end of the exhibit?"

Enjolras gave Grantaire a small smile. "I would like that very much."

“How about a night cap at Club Musain when this is all over?”

“Perfect!” I eagerly await our meeting.”

The rest of the evening couldn’t have gone slower for either Grantaire or Enjolras.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO HAS TAKEN THE TIME TO READ THIS!!! ESPECIALLY THE PEOPLE WHO HAVE LEFT KUDOS!! AND VYVRIK I LOVE YOU!!!!


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A deeper look at both Grantaire and Enjolras at the exhibit.

The exhibit seemed to last an eternity. Grantaire could hardly focus on his duty as the artist of the exhibit when all he could think about was Enjolras.   
Enjolras was easily the most beautiful man Grantaire had ever seen. His hair was the color of gold in the light of a candle. His eyes were clear and blue like an alpine lake Grantaire once saw on a school field trip. Grantaire felt like he could compose sonnets just on how magnificent Enjolras's body was. For the first time in his life Grantaire finally understood what people were talking about when they used the phrase "buns of steel". The moment Émile had set his eyes on Enjolras, he was smitten. He was struck to the bone in a moment of breathless delight. Just thinking about Enjolras made Grantaire's blood make its way down south.   
"Oy, Grantaire! For the love of God, close your mouth, you're practically drooling!"  
Grantaire rolled his eyes and turned to face his best friend Éponine.   
"Nice to see you too 'Ponine." Never the less Grantaire wrapped his arms around Éponine and kissed the top of her head.   
"I really am glad to see you Éponine. It means the world to me that you're here."  
Éponine smiled up at Grantaire. "You know I wouldn't have missed this for the world R! Same with Courf and Gavroche, they should be around here somewhere.   
Anyway, the exhibit looks incredible Grantaire, you've really outdone yourself."  
Grantaire blushed at the praise. "I accept your praise even though it is far from the truth."  
Éponine smacked Grantaire on the arm. "Why do you always have to put yourself down? You are a brilliant artist and you're being a fucking idiot! Anyway, why did you have your mouth open like a fish?"  
Grantaire found himself blushing again. "I just saw the most beautiful man! He looks like a Greek statue come to life. His name is Louis Enjolras and . . ."  
"Enjolras is the guy?" Éponine started laughing hysterically.   
Grantaire glared at Éponine. "What's so damn funny?"  
"I know Enjolras quite well R, he's Courf's best friend!"  
"Wait, you mean he's the one that you told me has been arrested over half a dozen times, including during the whole "Occupy Wall-street" thing?"  
"He's also the one I told you has no sex drive. I mean literally, you are definitely not the first person to think Enjolras is hot but in all the years I've known him, I have never seen him date or even kiss anyone. I remember this one time a girl came up to him at a party to give him her cell number and he started telling her that he doesn't have time for love or relationships because he needs to focus on saving the world and being a brilliant professor or something like that. The girl ran away crying, it was epic."  
"Of course he is. Just my fucking luck! I see a guy who literally just set an unreachable standard of beauty for every other guy I meet and he's not interested in sex! Great, I was hoping our after hours drink would be a first date!"  
"You two are going out for drinks later tonight?"  
"Yeah. Oh well, I can still admire him from afar."  
"You really are a masochist R. You're going to subject yourself to longing after someone who won't ever like you back? Why would you do that to yourself, it’s a special type of torture."  
"And you should know from first hand experience."  
"Don't you dare bring up Marius, Émile Grantaire! We're in the same fucking boat so please don't rub it in my face that I'm in love with a guy who's infatuated with someone else."  
"You're right Éponine. We're going to need to support each other as we pine for those we can never date."  
“Damn straight!”   
Before Grantaire and Éponine could continue their conversation, Courfeyrac with little Gavroche on his shoulders interrupted.   
“Hey there gorgeous! You too Éponine!”  
Éponine smacked the back of her twin’s head.  
“Fuck that hurt ‘Ponine!”  
Gavroche giggled and clamored off of Courf. “R!”  
Gavroche launched himself at Grantaire, who easily swooped him up and proceeded to spin Gavroche around much to his delight and Éponine’s displeasure.  
“R, please be careful!”  
Courf rolled his eyes at his sister. “Oh relax, R would never drop Gavroche, I mean come on look at those arms! They’re Captain America size! Anyway, R the exhibit is amazing!”  
“Yeah ‘Taire, you did an awesome job!” Gavroche chimed in.  
Grantaire smiled down at Gavroche. “Hey, I finished that thing you wanted!”  
Gavroche squealed. Éponine raised a single perfectly groomed eyebrow at Grantaire. “Finished working on what?”  
“Sorry Éponine, it’s a surprise!” “Alright pipsqueak, let’s take a look at the rest of ‘Taire’s artwork okay?” Éponine asked her baby brother. Gavroche nodded.  
After hugging Grantaire Courf followed his siblings leaving Grantaire alone again.

~

“So, what do you think of the exhibit Enjolras?”  
Enjolras turned around from the charcoal piece he had been admiring and faced Courf.  
“You were quite right, this work is exceptional and the artist is interesting to say the very least.”  
Courfeyrac laughed at one his best friends. “That’s putting it mildly! So, you met our beloved cynic?”   
“Our?”  
“’Ponine, Gavroche, and I’s cynic. R’s Ep’s best friend.”  
“So he’s the one who managed to drink Éponine under the table?”  
“The one and only!”  
“Yes I did meet him. We had an interesting conversation. After the exhibit we’re going out for drinks.”  
“Really?”  
“You seem surprised.”  
“As long as I can remember I could never recall you ever having an interest in someone.”  
“This is not a date Courf. He happens to be almost as interested in French history as I am. It’d be nice to have a conversation with someone about something other than your sexual exploits.”  
“Hey, at least I have a sex life oh celibate one! And besides, you have serious conversations with Combeferre and me!”  
“Yes but neither of you two share my interest in French history. While I enjoy debating the merits of Kierkegaard with Combeferre I’m looking forward to being able to talk to someone about Robespierre.”  
“Fair point,” Courf now looked at Enjolras pointedly, “Just try not to get into an argument with him, despite all of Grantaire’s bravado he’s more sensitive than he lets on. He has his reasons for being a cynic.”  
Enjolras rolled his eyes but nodded. As Courfeyrac walked away Enjolras was left to ponder just what Courf had meant when he said Grantaire has his reasons for being a cynic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm soooo sorry it's taken me this long to write this chapter! I've been extremely busy with school but I'll try to update more regularly! This chapter is longer than the first two so hopefully it'll help make up for how long it's taken me to write this chapter! Thank you so much to everyone who has subscribed, commented, and left kudos! Love you guys!


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras and Grantaire finally have drinks.

After an eternity, the exhibit was finally over and that meant that it was time for Grantaire and Enjolras to go out for drinks. Being the connoisseur of any and alcoholic beverages that he was, Émile Grantaire knew the perfect little place where the two of them could actually be able to talk to one another. Once everyone had finally left Grantaire made his way over to Enjolras who was looking at the piece Grantaire had first caught Enjolras admiring.   
"Well Apollo, I believe it is time for our night cap."  
Enjolras scowled at Grantaire for calling him Apollo but said nothing.   
"Shall we Grantaire?" Enjolras asked somewhat impatiently. Grantaire gave a small bow and gestured for Enjolras to exit first.

Both men walked silently to the bar. They only started to talk once they were seated in a small corner of the bar. Enjolras had some artisan free trade organic beer monstrosity while Grantaire sipped steadily at his gin and tonic.   
"So Enjolras, what did you think of my exhibit overall?"  
"I was thoroughly impressed. Your use of color was remarkable and the way you played with light added depth to your pieces."   
Grantaire started blushing slightly, it was hard for Enjolras to tell if it was because of the compliment or the alcohol Grantaire was rapidly draining.   
"I've been wondering all night, how did you even hear about my exhibit?"  
"Courfeyrac. He's one of my best friend's and my roommate. I've been very busy with work and other activities and he thought I could use a night off. He thought that I would enjoy this exhibit and of course Courf was right."  
Grantaire smiled. "Courfeyrac is rarely wrong.”  
“Now it is my turn to ask you how you now Courfeyrac.”  
“I’ve known his entire family for ages. Éponine and I have been best friends for years. Éponine’s mom Adéle practically adopted me when I moved back to New York. So basically Courf, Éponine, and Gavroche are my siblings. I eat with their family at least twice a week. If you think about it, it’s pretty funny that we’ve only just met each other when we’ve both been absorbed into that family.”  
Enjolras chuckled at that. “I guess we go over for dinner on different nights. I have heard Éponine talk about you. I didn’t realize until we talked that you were the ‘Taire she’s always going on about. I happen to know a fair bit about you.”  
Grantaire raised his eyebrows. “I’m dying to know what ‘Ponine has said about me.”  
“Let’s see, you were born here in New York. At the age of 16 your family moved to Israel to take care of your father’s grandmother. You did your compulsory military duty before moving back to the US. You graduated from Emerson and in your sophomore year your parents divorced. Mother lives in Queens with your grandmother. Dad lives in Israel, and the two of you haven’t spoken in about five years because he disapproves of your sexuality and you disapprove of the fact that he’s a cheating bastard. Family’s Jewish on both sides of the family, mother’s side is French and Polish and dad’s side is Russian. Does that pretty much cover it?”  
Grantaire gave a low whistle. That does pretty much cover it. I also happen to know quite a bit about you Apollo.”  
“Shoot and would you please stop calling me Apollo?”  
“New York born and raised. Graduated egregia cum laude from NYU. Your parents met in Florida. Raoul was visiting his mother who had retired to Miami. Javier ran the deli that Raoul’s mother frequented. Javier’s family is from Cuba, and before that France. His family were some of the few Jews who were able to enter Cuba during the Holocaust. They were the some of the people who were evacuated by the US government from Cuba after Castro took power. Their mothers set up Raoul and Javier on a blind date and the rest is history. Javier’s sister was a surrogate for your dads and provided the egg to Raoul’s sperm that way they could have a child that resembled them both. You’re very close with both of your dads and they’re like fathers to ‘Ponine, Courf, and Gavroche. Your family is also Jewish but reformed. That pretty much cover everything?”  
Enjolras took a deep sip of his beer. “Pretty much.” 

There was a lull in the conversation before Enjolras sighed. So, you believe that the June Rebellion was a complete failure?”  
“I believe that those foolish schoolboys had no chance at all and knowingly threw their lives away. The National Guard was swift in stomping out the rebellion, the barricades didn’t even last the night. The people of Paris put themselves before others and didn’t come to the aid of the students. So yes I would say the June Rebellion was a complete failure.”  
Enjolras’s eyes flashed and his posture straightened. “How can you say that? Yes the National Guard triumphed that day but the seeds of revolution were planted and in only a matter of years the people of France rose together and overthrew the monarchy for good!”  
“Yes they overthrew the monarchy. The republic that they fought for was short lived. They went from a monarch to a despot!”  
“Louis Napoleon did take control of France but that did not last! He was removed and France was once again a republic!”  
“Oh yes that republic was a beacon of democracy and freedom! Let’s see does the Dreyfus Affair ring any bells? In World War I the French were useless! How many times was Paris almost captured?”  
“And the Central Powers never set foot in Paris!”  
“That was do to the British, the French were incompetent! Had it not been for the British and Canadians, and eventually the Americans, Paris would have been lost along with the rest of France! Then let’s look at after World War I, France was split into two parts! Vichy France supported the Nazis and took part in the subjugation and deportation of Jews! Then after the war, how about the French in Algeria? The France that those students in the June Rebellion fought for never existed.”  
Enjolras rose out of his seat. “I am done trying to have an intelligent conversation with you. You are cynical asshole who fails to see the goodness that resides in the hearts of all people.”  
Grantaire laughed. “And you Apollo are a deluded fool who cannot see the true nature of human kind and is unwilling to listen to anyone who does not share your beliefs.”  
Enjolras glared at Grantaire and stormed out of the bar.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn a bit about Jehan and Combeferre. Oh yeah and there's smut!

Combeferre sighed. He had just received a text from Courfeyrac; Enjolras was back from his drink with Grantaire, and Enjolras was furious. Combeferre quickly shot off a text to Courfeyrac that he'd be right over. The three men had been best friends since the eighth grade when Courfeyrac and his family moved from Ireland. They graduated high school together, they attended NYU together, and they even roomed together in college. At the moment Enjolras and Courfeyrac lived with each other. Combeferre lived with their good friend Jean Prouvaire. Jehan, as Jean Prouvaire preferred to be called had quickly become close with the three best friends, and it really was only a matter of time before this trio of best friends had found its fourth member.

Combeferre rubbed his face with his palms. "Jehan?" Comb called out. The poet stuck his head out his bedroom door. He had a feather quill tucked behind his ear and his hair was a mess because Jehan had a habit of gripping his hair when he was frustrated. "What's up?"  
"I'm heading over to Enjolras and Courf's apartment. Enjolras' drink with Grantaire did not go well. Do you want to come?"  
"Sure! I just finished the sonnet I was working on anyway. Let me just grab my sweater."  
Combeferre smiled to himself. Jehan was one of the sweetest people he had ever met. He was a caring soul who would drop anything for a friend someone close to hiHe also had a not so secret crush on Courfeyrac; so Combeferre knew that Jehan would be a few minutes so he could try and impress Courf.

After about ten minutes Jehan walked out his room in a pink sweater, striped skinny jeans, and floral print Doc Marten's. He had fixed his hair and tucked a few flowers behind his ear in the place of his quill. On any other person, Jehan's outfit would look absolutely ridiculous, but Jehan had a way of making even the most garish outfits work.

Luckily the friends only lived a couple of blocks away from each other so they were able to get to Enjolras and Courf's apartment quickly. Combeferre knocked and then used his spare key. Courfeyrac was stretched out on the couch sketching a new piece for his spring/summer collection. Courfeyrac was a fashion designer that was quickly taking the New York fashion scene by storm. Not only were his designs brilliant, his fashion line was socially and environmentally responsible as well. 

Enjolras was sitting in his armchair legs crossed in order to form a makeshift table so he could grade his students’ papers. Enjolras had his hair pulled back into a short ponytail and his reading glasses were dangerously close to falling off his nose. Courf sat up so that Jehan and Combeferre would have a place to sit. "Thanks for coming over. I know it's a bit late but it's the weekend so what the hell! I'm going to grab a beer, anyone else want one while I'm up?"  
Comb shook his head. "Just water for me thanks!"  
"What about you Enjy, are you in the mood for a beer?" Enjolras nodded.  
"And stop calling me Enjy!"  
The fact that Enjolras wanted a beer was proof enough that his evening with Grantaire had ended disastrously. Jehan popped up off the couch to help Courf with the drinks.

Combeferre was about to speak when Éponine came in. Combeferre's attention was immediately drawn to her. She was still wearing the sleek black dress with a plunging neckline that she wore to Grantaire's exhibit and then to Marius' performance at the Met.  
"Hey Éponine!" Combeferre said cheerily.  
In response Éponine flopped down onto the couch and groaned.  
"What's wrong Éponine?" Her brother asked from the kitchen.  
"Fucking Marius and Cosette are engaged."  
"You didn't know . . . fuck that hurt Prouvaire!" Courfeyrac yelled.  
"Yeah no asshole, I didn't fucking know and it fucking sucks!"  
Combeferre turned towards Éponine and noticed that her mascara had run from crying. "Marius is an idiot. Cosette is lovely I'm sure but you are kind, beautiful, intelligent, and just awesome. If he can't see that he's a fool and you deserve someone who realizes how wonderful you are." Éponine didn't know that there was already someone who did see her that way and he was sitting next to her on the couch.  
"Thanks 'Ferre, but you shouldn't be too hard on Marius, he's a lovely guy."  
Combeferre knew Marius was a lovely guy but Combeferre had his reasons for disliking Marius other than the fact that he was breaking Éponine's heart . . . again. Combeferre first saw the hurt in Éponine's eyes when Marius first gazed upon Cosette, years ago in Paris. Combeferre had a secret that he shared with Jehan; their little group of friends had been friends before over 150 years ago in Paris where all but Marius and Cosette had died upon the barricades. Combeferre and Jehan were the only two who remembered their past lives. Neither man could forget the day they both remembered their lives in Paris. They had clung to one another as they wept for a good thirty minutes before either on word them could calm down. 

Combeferre remembered as if it were yesterday the first time he saw Éponine during his life in Paris. She was trailing after Marius into the Café Musain. She was beautiful despite the dirt that caked her body and the rags that she wore. Éponine still seemed radiant to Combeferre. It was clear that Éponine fancied Marius but Marius was completely unaware. Éponine quickly became a fixture at the meetings of Les Amis d'le ABC, Enjolras’ revolutionary group. On many occasions Éponine proved invaluable to the group and she quickly earned the respect of the whole group but no one respected her as much as Combeferre. He quickly fell for her ingenuity, her intelligence despite her lack of schooling, her belief in a better France, and her kindness the likes of which Combeferre has never seen an equal. Inside Les Amis, Combeferre was loud, outspoken, and was close with all of the members of the group. Outside of the group however Combeferre was a shy and lonely university student. Éponine never failed to be kind to Combeferre even outside the meetings.

Then the barricades were built with the Amis, along with Eponine and her little brother Gavroche. Combeferre's dislike for Marius really stemmed from his foolhardy idea to stand with a lit torch on top of the barricade and then threaten to blow it up. Not only would Marius have killed the National Guardsmen but he also would have killed the other Amis. More importantly had Marius not risked the lives of everyone at the barricade, Marius might have noticed that Éponine had been shot protecting Marius. By the time Marius had climbed down from the barricade and saw Éponine, it was already too late. She was bleeding far too quickly and within minutes she had died in the arms of Marius. Éponine had been the first to fall at the barricade and it was the memory of Combeferre carrying Éponine's body when they saw Éponine asleep on the couch in Combeferre and Jehan's apartment a little over a year ago that brought back Combeferre and Jehan's memories of their past lives. 

Combeferre had frozen in place while his memories came flooding back. Comb was forever grateful that Jehan had been there and therefore saw the shift in Combeferre's posture and led him home outside so they wouldn't wake Éponine. For the first time since he was a child Combeferre found himself crying from the pain of his final moments at the barricade, and his joy at having a second chance at life with the people that meant the most to him. Jehan sat with Comb through the night as Combeferre struggled to process the memories from his life in Paris. Jehan made sure Combeferre realized that it was not his fault or the fault of the other Les Amis that Jehan had been captured and died alone during the battle. 

Jehan had followed Courfeyrac into the kitchen to help with the drinks. Jehan also wanted a chance to stare at Courf's ass. Courfeyrac was still wearing the suit he had worn to Grantaire's exhibit and it clung to Courfeyrac in all the right places. It took every ounce of restraint Jehan had to not grab Courf by his tie and ravish his lips. "So, uh, how did the exhibit go?"

Courfeyrac turned and grinned at Jehan. "It was incredible. R's really outdone himself this time. The exhibit centers on the June Rebellion in Paris in 1830 something."  
Jehan paled. "1832. It took place in 1832."

"Well anyway the highlight of the exhibit was of two young revolutionaries about to be killed by a firing squad. The men are holding hands while one of them holds up a red flag. It's incredible. I wish you could have been there tonight Jehan."

"Really? I would have thought I would have come in between you and some sexy art patron. You look lovely in your suite."

Courf smiled up at Jehan. "I did have quite a few people interested in me tonight, but the person I was interested in wasn't there."

Jean Prouvaire felt his stomach plummet. Of course Courf was interested in someone. Jehan was in love with the young fashion designer and Courfeyrac didn't feel the same way about Jehan. "Tell me about this lucky person. They must be quite exceptional to have made you pass up people at the exhibit," said Jehan.

Courfeyrac smiled. "Very true. He's gorgeous. His hair is titian blonde and curly. He wears it short which makes me want to run my hands through it. His blue eyes remind me of a clear sky in Ireland. He's smart, funny, witty, and without a doubt one of the sweetest people on earth. He loves his friends fiercely and despite his gentle nature he kicks ass. And he's extremely talented."

Jehan felt his heart break. Courfeyrac was besotted with someone else who sounded perfect for Courfeyrac. Jehan turned to head back to the others with his head down when he felt a hand on his arm. Courfeyrac was smiling up at Jehan. "Jehan you fecking idjur, it's you."  
Jehan's mouth opened and closed like some big-lipped fish. All he could manage was a squeak before he pounced onto Courfeyrac.

Thankfully Courf had the sense to put the bottles of beer down before grabbing Jehan's arm because had he not he would have surely dropped the bottles on the floor as he threw his arms around the poet. Before he knew it, Courfeyrac was pressed up against the fridge with his head thrown back as Jehan left a trail of kissed along Courfeyrac's neck as Jehan had his hands down Courfeyrac's pants. Suddenly a pillow flew out of nowhere as Éponine moaned, "OH MY GOD I did not need to see my brother rutting against Jehan! Shit, I think I'm going to be sick!"  
Courf and Jehan both had the decency to look embarrassed before Courfeyrac muttered into Jehan's ear, "My bedroom. Now."

Courfeyrac grabbed Jehan's hand and led the giggling poet to his bedroom. As soon as the bedroom door was shut and locked, Courf pinned Jehan to the door with a searing kiss.  
"I've wanted to do this for so long Jean Prouvaire. Jehan let out a low moan as he bucked his hips into Courfeyrac's. In response Courf moved his knee between Jehan's legs and rubbed his crotch. Jehan mouthed a Courfeyrac's shoulders.  
"Fuck, Jehan what'd you say?"

"God Courfeyrac, I can't wait to be inside you. I want to feel you around my cock as I thrust into that spot that'll make you scream. I want to fuck you so hard people are going to assume you twisted your ankle because you'll be limping so much. Afterwards I'll write sonnets about your heat, the slight curve of your cock, the way your mouth moves when you moan my name."

~

Courfeyrac was close just from Jehan's dirty talk. "Fuck, Jehan, where the Hell did you learn to talk like that? That's so, fecking Jesus, if you don't add another finger I'm going to, fuck!" Jehan grinned up at his lover's face as he continued to prep Courf by twisting and crooking his fingers and pressing harder against Courfeyrac's prostate.

After what seemed like hours to Courfeyrac that in reality was less than fifteen minutes, Prouvaire removed his fingers and rolled a condom over his length.  
With a quick squirt of lube, Jehan stroked himself three times before he slowly pressed the tip of his cock into Courfeyrac. The sound Courf made was literally the best sound Jehan had ever heard. Inch by inch Jehan moved in deeper and deeper until he finally bottomed out. Jehan stayed still until Courf wrapped his longs around Jehan. There were no words to describe how tight and warm Courfeyrac felt around Jehan and never in a million years would Courfeyrac have expected Jehan to be the sex god that he was. Jehan was able to find that spot in Courf within his first few thrusts and hadn’t stopped hitting that same spot since. It didn’t take long for Courfeyrac to feel the tingling in his balls that meant he was close. “Shit, Jehan, I’m gonna come!" In response the poet took Courf’s length in hand and proceeded to thrust impossibly harder. Within a few strokes of Jehan’s hand along the length of his cock, Courfeyrac moaned against Jehan’s lips as his orgasm washed over him. The sight of Courf’s orgasm and the feeling of him clenching around him lead Jehan over the edge to his release with a shout of Courfeyrac’s name.

Both men were unable to speak for several minutes as they tried to catch their breathing while exchanging lazy kisses. Eventually Jehan got up to bring a wet washcloth to clean off Courf’s come and once both men were wiped off Jehan wrapped his arms around Courfeyrac. “That was beyond incredible. You were incredible. I can’t believe we’re finally together. This is heaven.” Jehan stated.  
Courfeyrac grinned. “You’re not so bad yourself. I mean seriously, I knew that’d you be good but I never expected you to be a sex god. There’s no way you’re ever getting rid of me now.”  
“That’s good with me," Jehan responded. 

~

 

Éponine and Combeferre both rolled their eyes at Jehan and Courfeyrac. “I’m glad that they finally got together but did the really need to start sexing up the kitchen?” Combeferre whined.  
“I agree completely ‘Ferre. It also must have been awful to see your brother Ép, about to devour Jehan,” Enjolras said grinning. Enjolras was finally done with grading and was now leaning back in his chair with a beer in his hand.  
“Ah Enjolras, you have rejoined us at last!” Éponine teased. Enjolras, in response, threw a pillow at Éponine’s head.  
“Well since you’re done grading Enjolras there’s no way for you to avoid talking about what happened when you went out for drinks with Grantaire,” Combeferre said.  
“Is this really necessary Combeferre? We had drinks, he was a cynical asshole, we butted heads, and I came home. I mean it’s not like I’m going to see him again.”  
“Yes it is important Enjolras. You hardly talk with anyone outside of school or the group. It’d be nice to see you branch out a bit.” Combeferre explained.  
“Comb, I do not want to waste my time with a drunk, cynical, idiot.”  
“Enjolras I love you. You’re my brother from another mother, but seriously stop degrading Grantaire. He’s my best friend and a wonderful guy if you get to know him.” Éponine argued.  
“Well maybe but I don’t have the time to get to know people. Either way, his cynicism and my desire to make the world a better place would make it very difficult to be friends. So no thank you Éponine). Now if you both will excuse me, I’m going to bed.”

With a quick kiss to Éponine’s cheek and hug to Combeferre, Enjolras walked to his room. Combeferre and Éponine looked at each other before Comb said, “Well, now on to plan B.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm really sorry about how long this has taken me to post. My birthday, school, day's surgery, school. I put in some Courf/Jehan smut and yes this is a reincarnation fic! So a master list of characters. Enjolras' dads are Raoul and Javier LeMarque. Raoul is based off of Hadley Fraser because I adore him and while he's not my favorite Grantaire (very close second though!) he is my favorite Javert and I love him to death so I couldn't not put him in. He looks like he did when he played Raoul. His husband is based off of Ramin because the two of them together are perfect. Nuff said. Raoul's dad is Colm Wilkenson because he is just spectacular and I love the idea of him as a grandfather. Courf, Éponine, and Gavroche's mom Adele is based off of Lea Solonga because she's amazing and their dad is Javert as played by Norm Lewis. Adele had the kids using the same sperm donor before she met Javert. He is their dad and with Javert, Adele has three more kids, Azelma, Henri, and Etienne. Now we come to Bahorel. He has a twin brother that is based off of Jamie Muscato because I adore his Joly and its nearly impossible to pick which Joly I like better (I think I'd go with Hugh Skinner) and he was one of the barricade boys on screen so yeah. Jamie and Iwan look quite a bit alike!  
> PS this chapter is dedicated to my fab beta, Mickee! I loe you!


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